


The Sound of Another Person Being Destroyed

by Vanadis (VanadisV)



Series: Forty Eight Thousand Years [9]
Category: Stargate - All Media Types, Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Abduction, Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Caretaking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Hurt Rodney, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Male Slash, Non-Consensual, Past Domestic Violence, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective John, Romance, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Content, Sexual Violence, Slash, Torture, Tragic Romance, Trauma, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 07:20:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11892795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VanadisV/pseuds/Vanadis
Summary: ..John and Rodney are taken captive by an unknown enemy!





	1. Trauma

**Author's Note:**

> .  
>  _No Canon required_ :This series was written to be accessible to those unfamiliar with this fandom.  
>  _This part of the story takes place Post-Canon_ (after the end of the show):  
> .  
> .  
>  Useful facts for those unfamiliar with this fandom:  
> Dr. Rodney McKay is a genius astrophysicist and Colonel John Sheppard was the military commander and second in command of a base of operations called Atlantis (an Ancient Space-City/Spaceship).  
> John and Rodney McKay have been members of a military unit (SGC or Stargate Command) that has just left the Pegasus galaxy behind and returned to Earth.  
> John has just given his resignation and Rodney has gone after him determined not to let him go.  
> But there are threats on Earth as well, those who have been trying to steal the technology of the Ancients; knowledge which the Air Force and IOA (International Oversight Advisory) still keep secret from the Earth's population.  
> Dave Sheppard, a wealthy industrialist and John's brother has just discovered that some of his billion dollar industries are involved in sealing these government secrets.  
> Back on Earth, the center of Stargate Command is located at Cheyenne Mountain where the former leader of Atlantis, Dr. Samantha 'Sam Carter has been reassigned.  
> .

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
>  _John and Rodney struggle to survive a traumatic kidnapping unaware that there is hope of a rescue._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> .  
>  **WARNING: this short section (2 chapters) contains material which is graphically violent and disturbing in nature. Please skip ahead to the next section if you wish to avoid it. You should still be able to follow the storyline and infer was has happened.**  
> .  
> .

.  
.

John has a sense of waking, dull shapes in an unfamiliar room as his vision swims…. Before he can get a sense of his surroundings, he feels the sharp pain of another energy discharge and unconsciousness overtakes him once more.

 

Coming to again, he has no sense of how much time has passed. His head is covered and his limbs too tightly bound to move. Feeling drugged he tries to make out sounds, movements, anything to tell him where he is, and whether Rodney is here with him. A low voice says something he can't make out. Then a prick in his arm slides a warm sensation under his skin and he falls back into oblivion.

 

Seizing suddenly, John is alert now with a pounding headache. Dry mouthed, his lips scratch against the coarse heavy fabric over his head. He can't move, is limbs bound painfully to a chair. The thing won't move, bolted to the floor, it feels like. He is rewarded for his efforts by a searing shock of pain to his chest. Stilling himself, John is acutely aware of how vulnerable he is, completely naked and expertly secured. 

 

A sudden scream erupts next to him. 

 

"Rodney!" John blinks and tries to see through the cloth over his face.

 

A authoritative voice speaks in the cold room, “Every time you disobey, he will be punished. You understand?”

 

“Understand.” John answers through clenched teeth.

 

Someone behind him rips away the bag from his head and John tries to adjust to the blinding light. He can make out Rodney’s naked form tied to a chair next to him.

 

“What do you want?” He rasps at the blurry figure in from of them. 

 

A grizzled face leans close, pitted with old scars. He smiles with crooked teeth, “Trust.” The man thumps a Goa’uld pain rod against his palm, “Your new employers require that your work be trustworthy.”

 

Okay. These guys have alien tech. He thought the SGC had gotten rid of the 'Trust'. Is that what this toothy guy is referencing? Or is there another faction on Earth who could have gained access to classified tech, something they missed? 

 

Trying to distract their captors, John speaks glibly, “I’ll tell you anything you want to know. Actually, I just quit my old job, so I’m more than happy to help out your… employers. Who'd you say they were again, the 'Trust'?”

 

“No, Colonel Sheppard. They require that you be trustworthy." The toothy man smacks the rod against his palm again, "Proper leverage and control builds a solid foundation for honesty." He grins with thin lips curling around jagged teeth, "I anticipate you'll be immensely helpful, once I can trust your motivation.”

 

Rodney pipes up, “Well, I don’t know how long you were planning on keeping us but certain people are going to be looking for us and they’re going to find us.”

 

“We’ve removed your locator signals, Dr. McKay", The man laughs, "The SGC won’t be looking for you for… at least a month, is that right?”

 

John throws a worried glance at Rodney. _'Who are these people and how the hell do they know this?'_

 

Another man walks into John's view, heavyset with a wide face, dressed in civvies but carrying himself like he's had training. Ex military? Mercenary, maybe?

 

“Should we start with our primary asset?” He asks the toothy man handing some equipment with Goa’uld markings to a tall, wiry man.

 

“No.” The leader, John has named him Toothy, gestures to John, “Start with this one first.”

 

 _'Shit. It's Rodney their after. Who the hell are these people?'_ John’s stomach burns in anger, blaming himself for putting Rodney in danger. If Rodney hadn't come looking for him- Hissing in pain John feels a sharp spike impale the side of his temple. It hums with an electronic buzz as the heavyset man tightens it into his head. 

 

A large screen flickers to life against the far wall.

 

“I can see you are unfamiliar with this technology.” Toothy's black eyes examine him, "It's most effective to access memories, not in as much detail as I'd like, but the emotional content and imagery is clear.”

 

John thinks he's heard of a machine like this and steels his mind. He's resisted the control of a Wraith Queen, he should be able to keep himself from revealing too much. But Rodney... He darts a low gaze his way and Rodney stares squarely back at him as if he is worried about the same thing. 

 

They ask John questions about specific missions, technology, and security codes; flashes and momentary scenes flit across the screen as they prompt him. But they are fleeting and John keeps his focus shifting. But too many images of Rodney keep popping up, he has to stop thinking about him.

 

Just as he is willing himself to banish Rodney from his thoughts, a visual of them kissing in the hotel room appears. _'Fuck.'_ John winces and tries to think about golfing. No, not teaching Rodney how to golf, something boring... polishing clubs. God, even that seems sexual now. 

 

Sidling up to John, Toothy peers at him with a wide sickening expression, “What does a man like you fear most?”

 

John frowns and presses his lips together. _'Nothing. I don't care what you do to me'_ he tries to believe the lie but the truth behind it can't be denied, _'I don't care what you do to me as long as you don't hurt Rodney'_  . A sinking feeling falls through his gut as he sees one of his memories on the screen. 

 

The day Rodney almost died from the Ascension machine; he's collapsing into John’s arms as he pulls Rodney onto the bed, cradling him, "Oh Rodney…" John hears himself speaking through the tears, "I'm here, I'm right here." 

 

“Enough!” John raises his voice, betraying himself further by turning his head to look at Rodney again.

 

The screen goes blank and strangely Toothy goes silent. No matter how impassive John keeps his face, he knows it's obvious what he most fears.

 

After a long moment Toothy turns to the tall, wiry man squinting at the controls, “Yes. I think that’s enough.”

 

The heavy set man pulls the spike from John’s temple and moves towards Rodney as another man enters the room. There are five of them now. John stares at each of them to commit their faces to memory.

 

“Do whatever you want to my mind but you can't make me cooperate!” Rodney declares defiantly, “Yeah-yeah, you think you’re the first ones to try? Hardly. I’ll just sabotage whatever your trying to do and you wouldn’t even know because I’m that brilliant. So you should let us go now because –OW-OW-OW! That hurts!”

 

John grimaces as they tighten what looks like a large thumbtack into the side of Rodney’s head.

 

“Sabotage, huh?” Toothy sounds unimpressed, “Well, why don’t you show me a time when you cooperated instead.”

 

The view screen flickers to life and a scene from the past plays out. He and Rodney in the field arguing over whether or not to repair Ford’s Dart ship. Rodney finally listens and agrees to John’s plan.

 

“Yes-Yes." Rodney speaks over the images, "But I later escaped and-“ His voice chokes  off abruptly as the viewscreen reveals him giving John a blowjob in the field.

 

Biting his lip, Rodney looks to John and shakes his head in apology. John tries to reassure him with his expression. ' _It will be okay. I will get us out of here. Somehow.'_

 

“So then, you do what he tells you.” Toothy points his pain stick at John.

 

“No.” Rodney sounds unconvincing.

 

“Tell me, Doctor," Toothy steps close to Rodney’s face, "what does a man like you fear most?”

 

“Uh, everything.” Rodney nervously gulps, “So that’s not really, uh…”

 

The screen plays out a series of images. A lemon, a bee, a whale, then it holds still on the face of a dark-haired man John doesn’t recognize.

 

“Who is that?” Toothy walks towards the screen, “That man?”

 

“No- Nobody.” Rodney answers in a small voice.

 

A series of vignettes play out like a montage from a movie. The dark-haired man charming and wooing Rodney; they seem to be in love, moving in together.

 

“No." Rodney writhes in his restraints, protesting, "Please, no.”

 

“This memory technology can provide very realistic sensory recall. Right now it's on it's lowest pain setting, so the discomfort you are experiencing is minimal.” Toothy gestures to the wirey man and Rodney whines in pain as he turns up a dial, “This will hurt much more unless you show me what I want to see.”

 

Slumping his head in defeat, Rodney makes a muffled noise of distress.

 

The dark-haired man is handsome, but his face turns ugly, screaming at Rodney and degrading him in ways beyond John's comprehension. Afterward, he holds Rodney and apologizes, saying he won't have to be this way if Rodney could be more lovable. It gets worse in the next scene, the cruelty more sharp. The things this man says to Rodney are unforgivable but Rodney forgives him anyway. Scenes of physical violence follow.

 

John feels nauseas. This must be the monster who hurt Rodney.

 

Toothy asks to be shown more and Rodney whines pitifully as the visuals show him being beaten, told how disgusting and worthless he is. The guy tells Rodney that no one else would want to be with him if they really knew him, that Rodney is lucky to have anyone at all.

 

“Please, Alex, no.” Rodney cries out as Alex pins him down, calling him a stupid, pathetic whore. He pleads, curled into a self-protective ball, but Alex strips him from the waist, forcing himself into Rodney viciously.

 

John squeezes his eyes shut but he can still hear the struggle of the rape onscreen.

 

“It’s all your good for… dirty cum-rag ...to be used up,” Alex speaks with his thrusts, "you like it… like to be used… yeah... used up and thrown away... cause you’re a worthless little… fuck. Fuck, oh yeah.”

 

Raging internally, John sees Rodney's eyes are pinched shut, his head hanging in shame.

 

"I’m right here Rodney.” John whispers just loud enough to be heard. “Rodney." 

 

Rodney lifts his head and looks at John plaintively.

 

“I’m right here.” John keeps his voice calm, holding Rodney’s gaze steady and trying not to listen to the memories being replayed.

 

Alex reasons with Rodney, convincing him that he's so worthless and unattractive that no one else would want to be with him. He tells him hateful things and makes Rodney repeat them back.

 

"Ugh" Rodney flinches against his restraints turning and looking up at the screen in dread. John's eyes follow and he sees Rodney naked; one of his eyes is puffy and his lip is bleeding. He's trying to get away from Alex by escaping into a bathroom but Alex forces his way in.

 

He beats Rodney on the floor of the shower, "You need to stop it. Stop it now or you really will have to go to the hospital again."

 

"I'm not-"

 

Alex slaps Rodney’s face and he goes deathly still, frozen in fear.

 

Then Alex thumbs Rodney’s chin, “You’re lucky I _want_ to use you. I do love you. But you're so impossible to deal with. Most men wouldn't go so easy on you. If you can’t hold onto me, you’re going to have it a lot worse."

 

He leans in close over Rodney's face, stroking it softly with his hand, "Has anyone else ever found a reason to love you Rodney?"

 

Rodney shakes his head stiffly as stray tears slide down his cheeks.

 

"No one else will ever want you for anything more than a cum-rag." Alex speaks in a calm instructive tone, "I’m going to use you rough tonight to teach you a lesson. You need to learn to enjoy being used; being so ugly and pathetic it's what you're good for. This skin," Alex reaches down to jut his fingers inside Rodney, "feel how pasty and weak it is, it's better to accept what you are and know what makes a man want to use you."

 

The horror of what comes next is worse than anything John could have imagined. The sexual humiliation, the continued emotional and physical battery feels worse than anything the Taliban ever did to him. He is physically shaking seeing Rodney like this, so frightened and diminished.

 

Alex is filled with malicious hatred, like he is compelled to put all of that hate into Rodney to get his release. He tells Rodney such horrible things about himself and makes Rodney believe them.

 

Wrenching against his restraints John whispers hoarsely, "Rodney, don't watch this. Listen to me, I'm right here."

 

His eyes haunted with humiliation, Rodney slowly turns back to look at him; And John's heart breaks that anyone ever made him hurt like this, "It's just you and me. That's all that's real right now."

 

He tries to keep Rodney's focus on him, keep talking to him to distract him from the images of the past. But then a wounded keening noise makes Rodney twitch and return his attention to the screen.

 

Alone in the shower, Rodney is hunched against the wall, sliding down onto the floor; he curls up into a ball and begins to sob, "Please, please, no... No, no, please."

 

It's just like the night he saw Rodney crying on the shower floor in Antartica. John's stomach lurches. ' _Oh God. Rodney I'm so sorry. You were hurting so much and I should have gone to you. I'm sorry I didn't know how to be with you, if I made you feel the way he did.'_

 

Rodney looks the same age onscreen as he did in Antartica. How much time had even gone by since Alex before he and John were together... God. John exhales a hollow shuddering breath. 

 

He'd always knew he'd hurt Rodney by being cold and distant, but this is so much worse now that he understands what Rodney must have been feeling, why he was crying that night. 

  

"So this is what frightens you most? Toothy's voice  interrupts, "Being violated so... intimately? Knowing you are too weak and pathetic to stop it?"

 

Rodney winces his eyes closed and buries his head into his shoulder as the machine plays another scene.

 

Alex is leaving him, telling him he wasn’t good enough, telling Rodney that he's completely unlovable.

 

There is a particular look of suffering in Rodney’s eyes that John recognizes as Alex tells him that.

 

It's the look Rodney had on his face when John rejected him, when he pulled away from the kiss. And again, when he shoved Rodney up against that wall.

 

_'God, why did I do that? I'm such a bastard.'_

 

“Ah” Toothy smiles crookedly at Rodney, "I see. It's more than that, it's the truth you fear the most. You've tried to forget what you are, but in your heart you know he was right about you. You're pathetic and weak and that's why you'll do as you're told."

 

Walking over to John, Toothy brings the rod to his chest but doesn’t activate it. “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

 

John balls his fists but stops short of anything that will cause the man to shock Rodney again.

 

“I think we have everything we need." Moving the rod across John’s bare chest to illustrate his control, Toothy cranes his head and points the rod toward Rodney, "In fact, I think, you are the way to get to him. 

 

Yes," he snaps his head back to John and trails the sharp metal edge over his chest again, "It’s a puzzle, you see? By breaking him in properly, I break you to gain what our employers most desire.”

 

John clenches his jaw, “Aren’t you kind of ruining your plan by telling me what you’re doing?”

 

“Not at all,” The man smiles with his teeth, “All the more effective.”

 

The pain rod suddenly goes live and John feels a searing shock through him before he blacks out.

 

.  
.

 

This time John wakes up on a cold cement floor without any restraints, it seems like hours have passed but he can't be sure. His head throbbing, he strains to focus his eyes. There was something that woke him. A sound?

 

He rolls carefully, edging his hands and knees up onto the unforgiving floor. Crawling forward he sees bars. He's in a cell. In one corner is a narrow cot. In the other, a bare faucet spigot next to a toilet like you'd see in a brig.

 

Then he hears the noise, like an animal in pain.

 

On the far side of the room, a slumped shape on the floor... "Rodney!"

 

Barely finding his footing, John propels himself forward to the other side of the room. Rodney is huddled in a ball, rocking himself. He looks like he's been beaten… His feet are bleeding.

 

They've been torturing him; John drops to his knees, "Rodney?"

 

In a catatonic state, he rocks ever so slightly and doesn't respond.

 

John's chest heaves in grief. He sees a couple wooden bowls next to the wall spigot, some cloth. He has to clean Rodney's feet, they look like they've been sliced open.

 

Filling the bowls with water, John sees their captors have left a plastic bottle of antibiotic soap. No food, no clothes, but they must intend to allow him to help Rodney.  

 

Touching Rodney's ankle, John gently asks for permission, "Rodney?"

 

As if he doesn't know John is there, Rodney rocks, staring blankly ahead. 

 

John lightly touches Rodney's bruised and puffy face. He flinches slightly to the touch but otherwise seems to take no notice of John's presence.

 

Turning his attention to one of the bloody feet, John begins to cleanse it with the hand towel and discovers the extent of the wounds. Cigarette burns, some gashes, at least one of his toes looks broken.

 

Bile rises in his throat and John's stomach lurches as he recognizes the clear stains running down the inside of Rodney's legs. They had wanted to know what to use against him… and they had… John sucks in a hard breath and chokes in horror at the small pool of blood flecked semen stuck to the floor by Rodney's ass.

 

A murderous rage grips him. But he can't think about killing them now, he has to take care of Rodney.

 

Mournfully curling down and wrapping his arms around him, John's voice quakes, "Rodney?" 

 

Hugging his knees, Rodney continues staring at nothing, rocking and making a small keening sound. 

 

"Rodney?" John finds a louder voice and strokes his uninjured back. 

 

No response. Gently palming Rodney's face, this time he calls him by Jeanie's pet name, "Mere?"

 

Suddenly Rodney goes quiet and stops moving.

 

All the love and tenderness wells in his throat, everything he's been waiting so many years to express, John whispers brokenly, "Come back to me, Mere?"

 

A long, slow moan escapes Rodney's lips as John wraps his body completely around him, "Mere." He uses the pet name again because Rodney seems to be responding to it.

 

"I love you, Mere." John coaxes with a warm breath and kisses the small wound on his temple where they placed the spike, "Come back to me, please. Let me hold you."

 

Rodney shudders and exhales a great heaving sob. Letting go of his knees, he turns and wraps his arms back around John, his head falling into the hollow of John's shoulder as he weeps openly in gusting waves.

 

"Okay. Okay, good. I'm right here." John pulls them up into a sitting position, keeping Rodney supported so he can still rest his head into John's chest. 

 

Ignoring everything else but the fact the Rodney is still alive and with him, John pets the back of his head, "Okay, I've got you now." He tries to reassure himself with the same words "I've got you now."

 

"-I…" Rodney starts to speak through the sobs, "-I… couldn't stop… -them."

 

"I know, Mere." John holds him protectively, "You couldn't. And I should have been there to protect you, okay?

 

Later," John promises, "I'm going to kill all of them, but right now all that matters is that you're alive. You're here with me. I've got you and that's all that matters."

 

Rodney nods into his chest, "I.. I'm..." his voice cracks haltingly, "so… disgusting... now. You... shouldn't be...touching…"

 

"Mere." John's hands smooth over Rodney's face and lift it up, "Mere, I can help fix that for you a little. Will you let me?"

 

Rodney can barely meet his gaze, looking so ashamed and broken. When he finally blinks up with tear matted lashes, John tries to project his immense love through his expression.

 

He needs Rodney to know this isn't his fault, to take some of the pain away, "I love you."

 

A small trickle of tears stream down his face as Rodney shakes his head, "You don't have to…"

 

"Will you let me, Mere?" John's heart is breaking; he needs to make this better any way he can.

 

The noise that comes out of Rodney’s mouth is strangled, but John can make out a ‘Yes’.

 

"Okay." he gently pulls Rodney to sit between his legs. Reaching for the cloth, he begins to softly clean the wounds and wash away the shame he can feel radiating from Rodney's trembling body.

 

The back is relatively uninjured, but Rodney's chest looks like it has taken a beating. There are bite marks and John is extra careful cleaning them, trying not the hurt Rodney in the process.

 

Seeing the raw burns from the bindings left on his wrists and upper arms John can't stop his mind from racing in anticipation of how he is going to personally kill each and every one of these men.  _'Focus John'._ He has to be here for Rodney not explode into a raging torrent. 

 

"I'm here, Mere." John moves the cloth to wipe at some of the tears silently slipping down Rodney's face. 

 

He wants to promise more, to tell Rodney it will be okay somehow. But it's not okay and it won't ever be. John feels so helpless. All he can do is hold him. His hands shaking, he continues cleaning away the evidence of Rodney's humiliation, murmuring what reassurances he can. What Rodney needs is a hospital. But they're trapped here and all he has is John and a fucking washcloth.

 

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* * *

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Rodney passively leans back against John and lets his kind touch take away some of the hatred and pain that feels like it is burned into his body now.

 

The horror of what they did to him is so jumbled in his mind. Worse than anything Alex ever did, but now, somehow it's all part of the same experience, like it never ended. They used Alex’s words while they took turns. The same feelings, the disgust he feels with himself for being so worthless and disgusting is screaming in his head. He can't bear the sensation of existing in his own skin except where John is touching it and making it better.

 

Worthless and disgusting. Unloveable. Something inside him is wrong. Something inherent in him made them want to use him and hurt him the same way. He doesn't deserve to live. He doesn't want to anymore.

 

But John doesn’t think that, does he?

 

Every fiber of his soul is coming apart, unraveled into the meaningless worthless filth Alex always said he was. But somehow John still cares about him. John is a life raft amid Rodney’s sea of self-loathing. He will try to hold onto that; he will let John hold him even though he feels like clawing his way out of his own skin. He'll take refuge in John, John helps drown out the voices of the men in his head.

 

"Give me your arms, Mere." John is wiping at the wetness under his eyes, "Just put them around my neck. I'm going to carry you."

 

Blinking, Rodney realizes the tears have stopped leaking. Confused he frowns at John.

 

"Okay." John runs his hands down Rodney's shoulders, "You with me, Mere?"

 

Oh. John's finished cleaning him. It's cold on the floor but where else can they go? It doesn't matter. He reaches up to link his arms around John's neck. And then John is folding an arm under his knees and lifting him up.

 

John carries him to a small cot with a thin blanket and a single pillow. As he reclines him to the mattress, Rodney starts to panic, feeling lost and terrified of what will happen next.

 

But John seems strong, his eyes reassuring and confident, "Doing great, Mere, almost there." He protectively wraps the blanket around him and smooths Rodney's brow as he positions the pillow.

 

Stupid, but he feels safer with the blanket around him. It's a thin barrier, a pathetic, infantile way to try to hide from himself. But as long as he has the blanket folded around him he can keep himself from touching his own skin. He can't bear the sensation of his own flesh. Shuddering violently, he can still feel their cruel hands on him, holding him open, rutting into him.

 

"Hey" John's voice brings him back, his hand touches Rodney's face with concern.

 

"Can you drink a little for me, Mere?" John brings some water from the small wooden bowl to his lips.

 

He holds it so that Rodney can drink his fill without lifting much off the pillow. It isn't food, but it's something.

 

As the liquid fills his stomach, Rodney cringes. It reminds him of their hands over his mouth, forcing him to swallow after they came inside his throat...  _"Drink it all little cum-rag. You know you're dirty and you like it. You want to be used and treated like a piece of garbage."_

 

Gagging, Rodney struggles not to throw the water up. His eyes swim and he sees the men's faces leering down at him. They were right, Alex was right. He is worthless and disgusting. A piece of dirty garbage to be thrown away. He wishes they would have killed him instead. It's so much worse still being here and feeling this.

 

John's hands are holding him up now, petting his back, "Okay, okay. Can you keep it down?"

 

Oh. It feels so much better when John touches him. Like he's erasing the other things. The bad things under his skin. Rodney's stomach stops churning and he mutely bobs his head.

 

Then John is on the bed with him pulling him into a fierce embrace, wrapping himself around Rodney like he is trying to keep everything in the world away from him. Rodney wants to thank him, to tell him it's working and beg him not to stop, but he can't find his voice. He can't even think straight. 

 

But John doesn't stop. He keeps petting him and soothing the horror away with little caresses. Each time he pulls his hand away it comes back; but then his hand returns, washing back over the wound, like a wave pushing back at the screams in his head. Exhausted, Rodney closes his eyes in relief to the sensation of John holding him like this, keeping the bad things away. 

 

He doesn't know why, but he likes it when John calls him Mere. It feels different or, or special... but old and familiar. Hearing John's say, "I love you, Mere." smooths over the uglier voices in his head, making them smaller somehow.  

 

Rodney has the passing thought he must be in shock. Maybe less now, because he's more aware of how much his body hurts. But John makes it safe enough to relax, his voice reminding him he's here with him... his hands reminding him he's not back in that room with the men. He lets his lids drift down and surrenders to the exhaustion pulling him from consciousness.

 

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* * *

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Dave still can’t fully process everything he's learned. The whole world, the universe isn't what he thought it was. He'd meant to destroy the files like he'd been warned to, but they were too mesmerizing. The reports from the SG1 teams based out of Cheyenne Mountain explain the backstory and origin of the program. But reading the mission files, especially the ones written by John about his team on Atlantis, makes it all sink in on a different level. 

 

These people have started to feel like real characters to him now. He can tell how much John cares for them all, even through the terse formal writing. And he can't believe he actually met an alien from another galaxy. That guy Ronan, military contractor my ass. Dave knew there was something weird about him right away.

 

Most of the email correspondence related to the Syndicate projects were encrypted. What wasn't, shed little light on what his father was really involved in or why.

 

Aaron is finally able to crack some of the emails but couldn't access most of it. He says they are encrypted to a level far beyond anything he's ever encountered. His best guess is they are using some kind of alien coding for the more sensitive stuff. Without someone who's had experience with the technology, Aaron doubts they'll gain access.

 

Dave takes the laptop with all the files on it and thanks him. Telling himself he'll find another way to get to the bottom of it eventually, he eagerly opens the readable files trying to glean anything he can about the operations. 

 

After scouring through most of the sparse and cryptically worded emails, he is disappointed. Too many obscure references, unknown locations, and project names but no concrete details.

 

And then a something stands out in stark contrast. 

 

One email directly mentions Sheppard's team and the prospect of Atlantis becoming more accessible. Obviously referencing his brother not his father? Dave looks at the date. Yeah, sent after Dad died, definitely about John. It goes on about an item they plan to acquire which will help to advance the coding -this he gathers has to do with the nanites. This  technology they are hoping to acquire is connected to a new project termed 'Human Resources'.  

 

There is a file attached but it's still encrypted.

 

Reading the next email Dave starts to become concerned. Most of it is too vague to know exactly what they are talking about but there is one line that disturbs him, "Once we have acquired McKay, things will move much more quickly."

 

Aquire McKay? Maybe he is being paranoid, but it sounds threatening in context. What if Dr. McKay is the item they are trying to acquire? It certainly wouldn't be a friendly job offer trying to gain access to someone who's part of a classified military operation in another universe. 

 

Is it possible the Syndicate has access to any space craft or means of getting to the Pegasus galaxy? If the government found out any of Dave's companies were involved in this, there are so many ways things could go badly for him. And he doesn't doubt that the Syndicate would be a dangerous organization to cross. It's just, the thought that maybe somehow, someone of John's team... or possibly even John could be in danger, is something he can't risk staying quiet about.

 

He immediately sends a message to John's fake 'commanding officer', saying he needs to speak with him due to an emergency. Dave knows it's a message that will no doubt take weeks if not months to reach John. Setting the phone down, Dave makes a reckless decision and books a charter to take him to Colorado Springs. 

 

If he wants to get this information to John in a timely manner, the only way is to come clean with the SGC. Based on the mission reports, Dave concludes that Colonel Samantha Carter is the most likely to be willing to hear him out. He puts his corporate detectives on it so he'll have some kind of idea about how to make contact with her unofficially once he arrives. 

 

Fresh from the airport, he gets lucky. Dave looks down to his Rolodex watch wondering at how little time has passed between reading that email and ending up here in the same coffeeshop with Samantha Carter. He'd been informed that she stops here most days but now this seems like a crazy whirlwind that maybe he should have thought twice before diving into.

 

Buttoning his jacket, Dave finishes what's left in his cup hoping his lack of sleep doesn't show. He can do this. He might end up getting arrested, but he can do this. Calling out to her familiarly as 'Sam', he extends a hand and introduces himself by his first name only.

 

"I'm sorry have we met?" She asks with a polite but cool smile. 

 

"Not exactly. But there's something that I think may be a matter of national security, and I wanted to give it to you."

 

"National security." Her brows raise in amused confusion, "Well, then I'm not the person you should be speaking with. I work with deep space telemetry... Dave, was it? Can I ask how you know my name? It's not everyday an obscure scientist like myself gets a pick-up line like this."

 

Dave smiles tersely at how easily she keeps her cover, at least she's concerned enough to want to learn how he'd know she was someone to approach. Having read her mission reports he knows she can be openminded if he can convince her quickly enough that he's not a nut job or a threat.

 

"Look, I don't want to say the wrong thing. If you just give me 2 minutes I think I can explain."

 

She looks reluctant but agrees, taking a sip of her coffee, "I'm actually seeing someone just so you know."

 

"Noted." Dave clears his throat and begins, trying to condense his concerns into the quick 2 minutes speech he'd memorized about Atlantis, nanotechnology, 'The Syndicate', and something that might be a danger to Dr. McKay, possibly connected to people who were part of something called 'The Trust'.

 

The moment he mentions the Trust, Sam cuts him off. Dave glances at his watch, okay he only made it about 45 seconds.

 

"I might know someone who worked on a project that involved the Trust, it's not really my area, but I'll give them a call." The look on her face tells him he'd better not be planning on leaving and he knows she could probably take him down if she had to.

 

 _'It's fine'_ He sarcastically reassures himself,  _'I'm probably going to get locked up somewhere where no one will ever hear from me again, but it's fine.'_

 

Listening to her phone call no one nearby would ever have thought she was calling in for reinforcements. She smiles and sips her coffee. Once she's off the phone, Dave tries to get through the rest of his speech, but a warning look from her makes him think better of it.

 

A swarm of black SUVs show up a few minutes later and take him back to the base for questioning. When they discover that he is John Sheppard’s brother, they become deeply suspicious of a security leak. Dave does his best to convince them that his business connections were old, through his father, and that he had no idea about any of this stuff until a couple months ago.

 

He explains that he only learned about this after his father’s death. Being suspicious about possible illegal procurement of government technologies, he had his people do some digging for him into his former business partners in the Syndicate.

 

Dave also stresses how little he and John have been in contact through the last 20 years. That really, he'd been almost more shocked to find out his brother was connected to this than he had about all of the other classified information.

 

The thought that he might be getting John into a lot of trouble should have occurred to him sooner. Somehow he'd thought, maybe it was stupid, to think one talk could change everything between them, but he wanted to make sure nothing bad happened to his brother.

 

After realizing how close John's come to dying, and so often, he'd thought... God, what _was_ he thinking? Like he knows anything the military doesn't or somehow could help... Good thing he has his lawyers prepared for the worst.

 

The SGC keeps asking him the same questions and they don’t seem satisfied with the answers. Then they hook him up to some kind of advanced lie detector machine and ask him their questions again. It seems he finally passes their tests because they let him out of his holding cell and have him sign a massive non-disclosure agreement.

 

When he is released, he learns that Sam is temporarily in charge of the base. So maybe his instincts weren't so bad after all when he picked her to make contact with. She returns to have a more open discussion with him, viewing Dave with less suspicion now. 

 

Drumming his fingers on the table, Dave sighs with exhaustion, "Look, ah, I know this was probably a terrible idea and from what I figure these guys have no way to reach Pegasus. But I was hoping you'd be able to trace the data or decrypt the files I brought on my laptop. You know, just to make sure nothing happens to John or McKay or anyone else if they ever visit Earth."

 

Sam gives him a grimacing smile, “Here’s the thing Dave, John and Rodney _are_ back on Earth…”

 

"Oh." Dave feels foolish, "Okay. I was just worried. I ah, I hope none of this will get back to  John or get him in trouble. We haven't been that close over the years and making it worse was not-

 

"Dave." Sam cuts him off with a compassionate expression. "Here's the thing, it looks like he and McKay are both missing." 

 

"Why didn't you tell me?", Dave starts in his chair then slumps, "No, I guess you couldn't."

 

"Well, we didn't actually know until you brought this to our attention." Sam continues, “They were supposed to be on leave for a number of weeks. But if it hadn’t been for you, a month may have gone by before we even realized their locators had been placed in the remote desert.”

 

“But you can find them?” Dave stares at her in alarm.

 

“Honestly, without their locators, it isn’t going to be easy. Our best chance is going to be the laptop you brought in. We’ve got Dr. Lee and his team taking it apart right now. And anything else you can give me about this group, the individuals, the corporations, it's going to be key.”

 

“Right.” Dave swallows hard. "Get me something to write with. I’ll give you everything I know.”  
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	2. The sound of another person being destroyed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
>  _John tries to protect Rodney and care for him, but even if he isn't the one being tortured, he's being broken just as deeply._  
> .

Bleary eyed, John realizes he's dozed off and shakes his head to stay alert. He tightens his hold around Rodney, renewing his guard.

 

Blinking around the cell, he spots two wooden plates by the bars. A shiver of cold rage runs down his spine. They've been inside. And John slept through it. 

 

How long was he sleeping? Maybe longer than he thought... He stayed awake, watching over Rodney for hours, the whole night it seemed. But if it's morning, he should be more tired than he is. His internal clock tells him it might actually be late afternoon or even evening.

 

His stomach growls at the plates of food by the bars. Looks like some kind of bread. Next to the plates is something else, he narrows his eyes. A washcloth? 

 

Lips pressing against the side of Rodney's face, he gives a light kiss and sways his hand across Rodney's back. Breathing deeply in a sound slumber, Rodney doesn't stir. Good. He needs to rest, to heal and recover from his wounds. John will stay awake. Next time they come, he needs to make sure they understand he'll give them anything, do anything to keep Rodney safe.

 

Lifting on an elbow, John stares at their edible offerings. What does it mean? His mind reels with every possible interpretation, knowing nothing, running ragged in helpless mental circles of defeat.

 

Too much time has gone by and it makes him restless not knowing what's coming for them next. Gingerly stepping off the cot, he makes sure Rodney is still peaceful then stalks across the cold floor. Unfolding the cloth, he finds nothing inside. Just another rag. And only a few slices of bread on each wooden disk. Again his stomach growls, empty for some time now.

 

He stacks the pieces of bread onto one plate for Rodney and gets himself a drink of water instead. Refilling the bowl, he brings the food and drink to the side of the cot.

 

 

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* * *

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The restraints are cutting through the skin on his wrists. Rodney struggles to make it stop. But it doesn’t. They won’t stop-

 

Gasping awake in panic, Rodney sits up wild and grasping at the air with his hands.

 

“Shhhh,” John is kneeling next him, taking his frantic hands, turning them softly in his, “I'm here."

 

Oh, God. This isn't a nightmare, it's real. He hurts... everywhere. Rodney looks around the cell and hears an unbidden whine rising in his throat. So pathetic.

 

"Sorry," John's voice is heavy, "Didn't mean to wake you." 

 

"You didn't," Rodney grips into John's hands, "Wait, is that food?" he looks down hopefully, then frowning in disappointment at the plate, "Is that all they gave us?"

 

“Yeah,” John is apologetic, “sorry I already ate mine, but I brought you some water too.”

 

“Ungh,” Rodney tries to sit up and winces in pain.

 

John helps him upright and sits protectively behind him, supporting him as he devours the small morsels. With so little food, he wonders if these men plan on keeping him alive... Part of him hopes they don't.

 

After he's eaten, John lifts the bowl of water to his lips to help wash it down; Rodney leans back into him after he's finished, "Thanks." he croaks.

 

There's so much more he wants to say, _'Thank you for being kind, for not hating me, for taking care of me even if I don't deserve it. I'm sorry, so sorry I'm weak and I need you. I need you too much. Please don't let go.'_

 

"I'm gonna to try to stop this." John's arms clasp him tightly back to his chest,  "Just whatever happens, Mere, please know I love you."

 

Rodney swallows at the lump in his throat and nods.

 

Suddenly there is a sound of sharp footsteps echoing in the hall. Rodney’s body seizes and he clutches at his blanket.

 

"Wait here." John grips his shoulders; there's a look of dark vengeance on his face, like he's about to murder them with his bare hands, "I promise you, I'm going to kill all of them." His expression stills back into an impenetrable mask, "but right now I'm gonna see if I can stop this."

 

"John?" Rodney mewls. He doesn't want him to leave; what if they start hurting him now instead? "John." But he's already across the room and doesn't hear Rodney whisper, "Don't go... I can't lose you."

 

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John sees five of them, all faces he knows, standing behind the cell door as it grates open. He keeps position midway between them and Rodney, making no sudden moves, but ready to strike.

 

"I don't want to fight you." speaking submissively John hides the truth, _'I'm going to kill each one of you slowly and painfully if it's the last thing I ever do.'_

 

Out loud he continues, "If you wanted to break us, you've done it. You win. You need to hurt me too? I'll take it, do anything you want to me if you still need to prove you're in control."

 

Three of them are moving in towards John, but the other two are headed for Rodney, "No!" John backs up to block their access, "you've hurt him enough. Whatever you need to do, do it to me."

 

But the two of them are still trying to get around John. Lunging artfully, he swings hard and brings one of them down quickly, catching the other on the backswing and into a chokehold. The struggling man begins to lose consciousness with the constricted blood flow. John counts the remaining seconds as he pulls him to the floor.

 

"I'm ready to go with you." John shakes his head at the rest of them, "Just leave him alone and I'll come without a struggle."

 

Toothy hands his pain rod to one of the other men, "Keep him down."

 

The unconscious man slumps from John's hold as the one on the ground comes back at him; John's blows knock him back, but he can't keep the other two from getting an opening. A side glance from the pain rod brings him to his knees.

 

Coughing at the spasm aching through his body, he swings violently, almost tackling the guy with the device before it catches him square in the gut. Searing pain folds him over into an uncontrollable seizure.

 

Pushed to his stomach, his arms are pulled painfully behind him while another current jolts through his back. His vision blacks out, immobile on the ground and wheezing for air. 

 

Still conscious, he hears Rodney pleading. John's voice comes out a thin rattle, spittle pooling on the floor under his chin, "Take me! ME! Leave him alone!"

 

Fuzzy images come back out of the darkness... Rodney's feet are being dragged past him. 

 

"NO!" John cries out as the pain courses through his body again, leaving him a useless mess on the floor; he can't control his limbs, shaking uncontrollably and convulsing. 

 

It's all gone black again, only noises to decipher what's happening. Sounds of terror from Rodney, the man he choked out getting back up, talking with the others. 

 

The screams that tear from John's throat are dry and thin,"Whatever you want! Take it from me. Just leave him! Please, I'll do anything!"

 

Then the metallic clang of the cell door slams shut and John scrambles blindly on the floor crawling forward, “No! NO! Take ME!” his voice finding it's strength again, “Take me you _fucking bastards_!”

 

Finding his feet, and holding himself on the bars, he can make out Rodney's form; his head stooped, naked and terrified as he's dragged down the hall by two of Toothy's men.

 

The rest of them are laughing as they enter a room nearby, just out of John's line of sight. 

 

“HEY!” John pounds onto the metal bars, “I said take me! I _want_ to go! It’s my turn! TAKE ME!!”

 

He knows they can hear him. The door to the room stays open and he can hear them talking. They need to come back. He has to  _make_ them come back. 

 

Climbing at the caged wall, John punches the bars until his knuckles are bloody, raging and cursing at them, pleading and promising them anything he can think of. 

 

They don't come back. _'Why won't they come back?'_

 

“God-no-please-no” hearing the sounds of Rodney's gurgling sobs breaks something irreparable inside John, “Please-oh-please. Not again.”

 

“Leave him alone! Take me!" The wild cries rip from John's throat, scraping it raw, Take- FUCKING TAKE ME you sons of bitches! Come back here and- _You_! _Take_! _Me_!”

 

"Please, God, don’t do this!” John beats into the bars uselessly, heedless of his battered hands, “I’ll do whatever you want!”

 

“Let me start with his ass this time," A voice laughs, "you can have his mouth.”

 

Every whimper of pain, every sound of Rodney being hurt as they grunt in release and diminish him with cruel hands and words, it feels like strips of John's soul are being peeled away, hollowed from inside his bones. 

 

They use the same horrible things Alex used to say. They make Rodney repeat it and tell them he deserves to be raped and used, that he likes being hurt because he's weak, pathetic and disgusting.

 

_'This is intentional.'_ John realizes, _'They want me to hear.'_

 

For John’s benefit, they talk through the humiliating things they are doing to him, forcing Rodney to describe it, though he can barely speak through the terrified sobs.

 

Then there is a terrible moaning noise, so horrific, it doesn’t even sound human; shrill and stifled, like the primal cry of an animal as the last breath of air is wrung from it's choked throat.

 

Knowing the pain must be unbearable and he's powerless to stop it, drives John into a rage of frenzy, banging on the grate and howling like a beast himself. He paces and punches at the walls. He tries to break the cot down into something he can use for a weapon, but it's solidly fixed to the floor.

 

But then he realizes he can't hear Rodney anymore. Rodney is hurting and John needs to know how much. 

 

He needs to know how much he needs to hurt these men later when he kills them.

 

There is no doubt these guys are professionals. John knows from experience, that a victim can pass out or go into complete shock unless the torturer knows how to ride the edge and keep the adrenaline and fear at just the right level. And these men are clearly trained in the art of torture; this is the means to a sick end that is less about anything sexual and more about effectively breaking down the psyche.

 

Knowing exactly how to make the pain and fear last, they take their time, taking repeated turns hurting Rodney’s body. These men are skilled. Hideously skilled.

 

"You guys want to each a take a foot, while I fuck him?" 

 

The pitch of Rodney’s fear goes up a notch. John can hear gasping, wet hopeless wails, punctuated by shrill screams, one after the other.

 

“P-pl-ease-no-no m-more? AHHHH! ...UNGHH! UNG! OHH! ...AHH-AH-AHH!! ...h-hurts so much.” 

 

“Well, it’s supposed to hurt", A man laughs, "Nice and deep where you'll always feel us inside you, owning every piece of you.

 

The laughter of the group is a quiet din under the sounds of Rodney's screams. They pierce through John so viscerally, it's as if he can feel just how savagely they are raping him.  

 

Falling to his knees and closing bloodied fists around the bars of his cage, John heaves suddenly; tasting blood and bile stinging his hoarse throat as the water he drank earlier comes back up. He shakes and crawls away from the pool of vomit, just far enough to collapse onto the hard floor. 

 

After a heart-wrenching wail, there is a moment of silence. Then the man speaks again. "It could be easier for you. You could stop struggling and give yourself to us willingly. We wouldn't have to hurt you so much if you're a good little cum-rag. I could even untie you. But you have to promise to be good and show us how much you love it."

 

Rodney sobs with a sound of utter humiliation and relief.

 

Things become more quiet for a moment. And then the man is instructing Rodney how to be a good whore; which ways to position or spread himself for them, to lavish kisses and worship the cocks they are using like weapons, what words to say as he begs them to use him.

 

"That's it... that's more like it... Be a good little whore. Yeah, that's good, but a little wider. Now let him take you from the other side. Show us how much you like being used. Tell me more before you suck me.

 

"I want to let yo-you fuck m-me and, and use m-me... I-I'm o-only go-od for b-being used, I know b-be-cause I'm… worthless and disgusting…" 

 

"That's it little whore, now keep showing me with your body... Yeah, kiss it and suck me good, show us how much you love taking his in the ass at the same time...

 

Good, now move with us. Yeah, yeah, there you go. But don't forget to use your hands now that they're free.

 

Oh, that's good. I'm going to have you get on top for the next round and fuck yourself on my buddy's cock while we play with you. You're so good at taking it from the whole group at once." 

 

"Oh-ho." Another man laughs, "Look at him take us like a pro. He was made for this. Weren't you little cum-rag? You like taking my cum? Tell me how much you love it."

 

And Rodney does. This is worse than anything that's already happened. John helplessly chokes on his own sobs and hugs his knees into himself. He can’t bear hearing Rodney being broken like this.

 

It's the sound of the person he loves most in the world being destroyed.

 

They are breaking him completely, making him feel complicit in his own torture by offering a false relief from the pain. It's a technique to twist the mind. By allowing the victim to believe they have some control, they blame themselves for what's happening because they've given into it. With prisoners of war this is often employed by having one victim torture another; but they are making Rodney do it to himself.

 

Rodney's being hurt and John was supposed to be protecting him. Rodney needed him but he failed when it mattered most. He hadn’t seen this coming, he has no idea who these guys are. But he _should_ have known, _should_ have sensed the danger, he'd just been so self absorbed... And now the man he loves is being destroyed, piece by piece. 

 

John's stomach clenches again in dry heaves. If there was anything left, he'd throw it up. From his fetal position, he pulls painfully at his hair, streaking it with matted clumps of blood as he weeps.

 

He's to blame for all of this. If he hadn’t left the way he did, Rodney would've never left the safety of Atlantis. And here John is, just lying on the fucking floor instead of stopping it. Enduring this is so much worse than if it were happening to him instead, so much worse than anything else they could have done to John.

 

“Please-please-please-please." John whispers through his quiet sobs, "Oh God, please stop, please stop…”

 

But it doesn't.

 

It goes on for an eternity before the sounds from the other room finally go quiet.

 

A fear quivers through him that Rodney's been killed. No. But no, they need Rodney alive… there's a sick purpose behind all of this. John pulls himself from the floor and looks toward to the open door at the end of the hall. There is a rustling of movement.

 

John jumps as he sees two of the men dragging Rodney's unresponsive body down the hall. His head hangs slack as they drag him by the arms; his feet limp, trailing blood behind him.

 

Standing in the middle of the cell, John trembles with rage, ready for anything.

 

Toothy appears first,  “Are you ready to be trustworthy?” he asks.

 

Stilling himself, the guilt consumes John as he remembers being told how they planned to  get what they wanted from Rodney by using him. This has all been entirely for the effect it was intended to have on John... that and to break down Rodney's self will. But clearly they plan to keep hurting Rodney until John can convince them he'll give them whatever it is they want from HIM. _'What the fuck else could they want?! I swore to them I'd do anything!'_

 

“I'll do whatever you want." John backs away from the door meekly, "Anything.  _ANYTHING!_ Just please, please don’t hurt him anymore.”

 

“Don’t know, a soldier boy like you?” Toothy looks skeptical, “You might need another day or two to bring you around. I was going to have you watch next time.”

 

“No!” John drops to his knees in submission, “No. I don’t need anything else. I’ll do whatever you want, you have to believe me before we're both too far gone to be of any use to you.”

 

“Please.” John whimpers, his face must be smeared with blood and tears enough for them to see how much he means it.

 

Toothy’s mouth twists into a smile, “Well, then, soldier boy… Your job is to keep Dr. McKay on task. Remind him to be a trustworthy employee. Keep him in line so he does whatever we ask him to."

 

“I understand.” John answers cold and dead inside, “Yes, I can do that. Yes.”

 

The door unlocks and Toothy pauses to see if John is going to try to attack again. He stays on his knees while two of his men carry Rodney in, walk him next to the wall faucet an drop him there like a dead weight. John just stares aghast at the bloody specter.

 

As they leave and lock the door, Toothy reminds him, "Remember how much more we could still do to him. Be a good soldier or I'll crush him so there's nothing left." With a sickly grimace, he adds, "Congratulations on your new job, I just hope you've learned to be trustworthy enough to know better than to risk fucking this up."

 

Staggering over to Rodney, his eyes have gone completely vacant. John's seen that look in the field before, when a soldier's soul has been shattered, when they've gone too far to come back. _'Oh God Rodney, please come back.'_

 

"Mere." John reaches out to touch Rodney's puffy face, he flinches reflexively but seems unaware of John's presence.

 

Huddled on the floor, Rodney rocks, soundlessly; his face empty and devoid of any emotion or recognition. His feet are bleeding badly but he's crouching on them as if he feels no pain.  John knows it's because he's gone into shock, retreated to place deep within himself. He can't expect Rodney to be responsive or engage with him. This time he's going to have to do this alone.

 

Getting the fresh rag, John fills the large bowl with water and antiseptic soap, kneeling next to Rodney.  

 

Afraid it might be the wrong thing, John can't stop himself from holding him. He wraps his arms around Rodney and just pulls him close. This time Rodney doesn't flinch; he keeps rocking, lost somewhere far away.

 

"Okay, Mere…" John struggles to keep his voice steady, "I'm here with you, I'm here." His head droops weakly onto Rodney's shoulder, "I love you so much." 

 

For a moment he feels like he's going to come unglued and lose it. But he can't, he has to stay strong. 

 

Pulling himself back from the brink of emotional collapse, John steadies himself, "Okay, I've got to, to clean you up. You don't have to do anything, just let me move you a little… Okay Mere?"

 

But Rodney just stares ahead, eyes glazed and unfixed.

 

Feet first. He's really worried about Rodney's feet.

 

No, start with something easier. Smoothing the damp rag over Rodney's brow, he flinches again. John realizes it's because he's been hit. One of his eyes looks like it's going to swell shut; the cheek doesn't look good either.

 

His lips are cracked open, bits of blood and semen have dried on his face and neck. John is careful with the sore cheek and eye, before cleansing the other side. As he moves down to the swollen lips, Rodney winces as John lightly dabs at them.

 

"You're doing real good, Mere." He's talking to keep himself calm as much as for Rodney.

 

While rinsing the rag, he takes a quick moment to clean his hands and face a bit. Returning with fresh water, he runs some over Rodney's hair and then begins to clean away the dried semen on the front and back of Rodney's neck. He runs the washcloth over Rodney's back, noting that is still relatively uninjured. 

 

Now for the chest; it looks worse than yesterday. "Mere, this is one of the parts where I have to move you, okay?"

 

Rodney still just rocks hypnotically, keeping his weight on his damaged feet.

 

John sits behind Rodney with his legs flanking him. He takes a breath and places a hand cautiously on Rodney's chest, pulling him back to lean into him. Rodney complies, bobbing his neck and head in the same hypnotic motion. 

 

The burns from the binding cuts on Rodney's bloody wrists are so deep they'll probably leave scars. He must have been struggling terribly before they untied him. It's better Rodney stopped trying to fight back, his body is already so mangled. But John knows the deep damage done to the psyche by relenting to your torturer.

 

When John was tortured by the Taliban, he didn't give up information; but he'd given in, in other ways, becoming passive and accepting he couldn't stop it. He'd wanted to stay strong and defiant, to fight; but his will to survive was gone after Lyle died and he just gave up. He retreated to a place of numb detachment that he never really came back from. Not until Rodney brought him back to life.

 

"I'm so sorry, Mere." John closes his eyes in shame, this is his fault, all of it. 

 

Still vacantly rocking, Rodney makes a slight hissing noise as John softly cleans the wounds on his chest. He hates causing him any more pain but he doesn't know how long they'll be here without any medical care. He can't risk infection.

 

"Now I just need to do your arms. You're doing great, Mere… This might hurt a little but we need to clean them."

 

Rodney gives no indication that he understands.

 

With a freshly rinsed rag, John works his way down from the shoulders, cradling Rodney's arms to avoid contact with the wrist wounds as long as possible. Then he closes the cloth over the cuts made by the bindings. Rodney blinks and holds his eyes closed, as he sways.

 

After moment of soaking John cleans the area, and repeats the process on the other arm. Then he lets himself stop and rock in time with Rodney. It is somehow soothing.

 

He can't help wondering if their captors really intend to stop... or if part of the torture is playing mind games to give John the illusion of some control. There's no reason to trust a thing they say, but if there is even the smallest chance that he can keep them from hurting Rodney again, he'll tell them any fucking state secret they want to know.

 

Finishing the other wrist, John leans in the Rodney's ear, "Mere, I'm going to do your legs now… I, uh, I want to start with your feet. Will you let me?"

 

Getting no response, John moves to face Rodney, placing his hand on one of his calves, he tugs it lightly. "Mere. Can I have your leg?"

 

And then Rodney comes off the balls of his feet, folding his legs to the side. Relieved, John moves a foot out from under and pushes his lips together in disgust at what he sees. The foot has been sliced repeatedly. Fresh burn marks stick out under the dried blood. He's going to need a lot of stitches and God knows what else. John grabs the bowl and lifts Rodney's knee to rest the foot inside.

 

"Mmm" Rodney moans.

 

It terrifies him that Rodney is so quiet. He usually complains about the slightest ailment. But this... John shivers, wishing Rodney would do something, say anything. He's so broken John's afraid he might be gone for good. While he lets the foot soak, he washes Rodney's calf and thigh. 

 

He will kill each of these men if it is the last thing he ever does. 

 

On the upper thigh John can see the telltale pooling of blood and semen. His stomach churns, he lurches and gags but there is nothing left to come up. 

 

For the first time Rodney looks directly at him with eerily vacant eyes, "I'm disgusting." he states in a far away voice.

 

"No! no-no-no, Mere." John clamors, "You're not. _They're_ disgusting. Because they hurt you."

It's plain enough by Rodney's face, he doesn't believe it. Two days of obscene torture, reinforcing the ugliest wounds in his past, he's falling through an abyss of his darkest terrors.

 

"I love you," John tries to break through anyway, "nothing about you could ever be... disgusting, you're beautiful and amazing like you've always been."

 

Shaking his head, Rodney again retreats into his catatonic stupor. John's jaw clenches to tighten control over his own emotions. Taking Rodney's foot out of the bowl, the sole looks like hamburger meat. Steadily Inhaling through his nose, John keeps his face still and tenderly pats it down. At least it's clean and dry now.

 

With a fresh bowl, John tugs at Rodney's ankle; it's offered without any resistance. Letting it soak, John pinches back another grimace of hatred as he cleans the residue from the inside of Rodney's other leg.

When he reaches the inner thigh, Rodney leans forward in a defeated slump, folding onto his stomach to give John full access.

 

"Okay," he warms his palm over Rodney's back," I'm gonna go really slow and be really careful. Okay?"

At first It's hard to tell how bad the damage is, too much has dried over the area to clean without hurting him... Even the surrounding skin is red, raw in strips, scraped by ruthless fingers. Before attempting to make real contact, John lightly places the wet rag into the crack to loosen the caked blood and semen. 

 

Smoothing Rodney's neck, he waits. Then bit by little bit, he wipes what he can away. Most of it comes unstuck, but sickening spots still cling to his skin, the worst of it stuck to the enflamed opening.

 

"Mere?" John asks tentatively.

Bending forward further in shame, Rodney spreads himself so John can see everything. The delicate tissue is bruised and torn. John bites his lip at the fresh trickle of blood from within. He can't tell if it's an external tear or internal bleeding. His bones ache with the agonizing possibility that the damage could be fatal. He imagines himself holding Rodney helplessly as he goes cold in his arms. Like Lyle.

 

Chest heaving, John places the cloth back over the wound. Staring hard at the ceiling without blinking, he wills the well of moisture threatening to slip from his lower lids to dry.

 

As excruciating as it must be, Rodney stays frozen once John starts cleaning away the remaining residue. Afterward he rinses the rag, wringing it out and using it to try to stem the bleeding. But pulling it away, the gash of blood leaks freely again.

 

Cursing under his breath, John tells himself it's not the same. It can't be. It just can't be a deeper internal injury. Standing unsteadily, he returns with a clot of tissue.

 

"Mere, I -I'm almost done. But I think maybe we should…" John softly packs the padding into his crack. "you can take it out if you want but maybe, maybe we just keep this here for a bit to stop the bleeding."

Rodney jerks back up onto his heels, hugging his knees defensively and lolling in a methodical, vacant loop. He looks so stricken; John can't stop himself from grasping him to his chest and rocking with Rodney in the same hazy shock.

Bending into Rodney's neck, he whispers and strokes the edge of his hairline with shaky fingers "I love you and it's going to be okay. I-I think it's going to be okay." Dammit his voice sounds so defeated, "I know what they want so I think, I think I can stop them from hurting you. 

Suddenly Rodney goes still but says nothing in response.

 

"I'm taking you to lay down now." John tries to mask his emotions, but his tone still sounds too ragged and resigned; not nearly strong enough.

 

Reaching under Rodney's knees, he's at least relieved to feel arms moving to grip around his neck so he can lift him up. 

 

Fortunately the cot has stayed sturdily bolted to the cement, unaffected by John's earlier destructive fit.

 

"Okay." John reclines Rodney carefully onto the mat and pulls the thin blanket protectively around him, "Okay, I'm right here, Mere. You with with me?"

 

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John is speaking again... it filters through the din of the ugly voices in Rodney's head. He tries to focus on what John's saying... something about things... being okay or, or getting better somehow.

 

He opens his mouth, stinging his lip where it's split, "Better...?"

 

John's arms are squeezing him, taking away some of the bad feelings under his skin. But ugly images swirl in his mind like a hypnogogic nightmare, a hurt that won't stop. 

 

"Better... h-how?" Rodney has to know if John's just trying too comfort him or if there's a chance this'll ever end. 

 

"Um, better I think if they let me... I mean, 'cause if they believe me, I think they know I'll do whatever they want...  John's voice comes out stuttered; his body contorts, twisting and burrowing against him on the cot, "I tried to stop, to stop it sooner but... I'm sorry, I'm sorry I couldn't..." 

 

Rodney can see from John's hands, they've hurt him too, "Why... What?" It's hard to speak, his voice comes out thick and wooden, "Wha-d they do t-you?" 

 

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"Doesn't matter…" John can't explain the fucked up tactics of their captors, it'll only make Rodney blame himself, "I broke, okay, told them we'd give them whatever they wanted."

 

"But…" Rodney stirs, "w-we're not gonna?"

 

"Yeah, we're gonna…" John can't bring himself to lift his face or look at Rodney; God its all his fault, his fault they're breaking him and hurting Rodney this way. 

 

"Gonna do whatever we have to." John husks, swallowing at the iron taste in his mouth from biting into his lip.

 

"Bu- M-might jus' kill you 'f I..." Rodney sounds confused, "'Kay w-wa-ever you say."

 

_'Right, that's what they were counting on.'_ John squeezes his eyes and his voice cracks when he tries to talk, "...If it's enough."

 

"M-to stop...?" Rodney lifts John's arm to examine a bloody and swollen hand.

A sudden, involuntary sob heaves from his whole body. John tries to hide it, pressing his face deeper into the crevice between Rodney and the blanket, but his hitching gasps betray him. He just can't hold it together any longer. He can't know Rodney will be any safer now, he has no way to know anything, no control over any of this.

 

"J-ohn?" Rodney reaches out in concern and pulls at him to turn upright.

  

"I'm sorry. So sorry." Gasping into Rodney's shoulder, he can't stop the tears of agony. "I tried to get to you but, but I couldn't get out. They made sure... They made me… Can't let them hurt you anymore. S-sorry... so sorry."

 

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Focusing his mind on what's happening right now takes every bit of strength Rodney has left. But he ignores his own pain because John's hurting too.

 

"Ohhhhhhhh." Rodney views himself and the facts with numb detachment.

 

It's all his fault for being so weak and disgusting; those men knew how to use that against him. Rodney couldn't possibly feel more disgusted with himself, John never would've broken on his own. 

 

"Please forgive me," John frantically grabs at him, "I'm so sorry." 

 

It's like his mind's disappeared and Rodney frowns trying to think; he's the one who should be sorry for letting John down, "Why 'r you sorry?"  

  

"My fault... I couldn't protect you, couldn't get to you…" John's shrinks into himself, "All those hours, nothing I could do."

 

"Y-you're hands?" Rodney blinks and lifts John's palm again. _'Did he do this to himself?'_

 

"I tried." John still keeps his head hidden. 

 

Dull sorrow and physical pain make it hard to think. So confusing. John should hate him for being so worthless. He heard everything, the begging, the screaming... Worse, John knows Rodney gave in and did whatever they wanted him to. So humiliating, he just wants to die.

 

But why isn't John more disgusted? Instead of hating him and treating him like the weak coward he is, he's begging his forgiveness. Makes no sense why John's being so kind to him... but Rodney needs it so much right now, it's all he has left to hang on to. 

 

"'S okay… don't havta be sorry." Squeezing an uninjured part of John's hand, Rodney curls his other around the back of John's neck. 

 

"I am though." John struggles to catch his breath, "I failed you. Failed everyone."

 

Wait... this sounds familiar; gears move slowly in the back of Rodney's mind, pulling up old memories, "Fears. O-our worst fears." The words feel thick and muddled, "Sm' how... got to us… used 'em against us."

 

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John freezes, remembering the talk he and Rodney had long ago. When they confided their darkest fears. Rodney told him how he'd been raped and abused in the past, how it made him hate himself.

 

And John confessed, ' _I've failed everyone that's ever mattered to me.'_

 

He's lived with that feeling for as long as he can remember, but after losing Lyle, it became an enduring, bone deep belief. But Rodney said it wasn't true, that John was wrong to hold himself responsible for everything... 

 

Or was it a different time he'd said that? There were more than a few talks where Rodney urged him not to give into his fears. John knew their captors were replaying Rodney's old trauma and using it against him. It just hadn't occurred to him they were playing him the same way.

"Fears. Right." John slows his breathing and wipes at his face with the blanket, "Then, it's just you and me. Nothing else is real."

 

"N'thing else." Rodney repeats.

 

Finally lifting his swollen eyes, John lets Rodney see him as he is, weak and broken. This time Rodney is the one pulling him in, holding him tight, like he's afraid John will disappear and slip away. 

 

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_'Fears'_ , Rodney tells himself, _'Nothing's real but us.'_

 

Clinging to John desperately, he tries not to drown in fears of what tomorrow will bring, to believe he isn't as despicable as he feels, and most of all, to believe they won't be parted again.

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**DON'T LOSE HEART: ******Things only get better and better for our romantic duo after this. I promise!!!  
**The next chapter is full of much comfort, love, and romance as John and Rodney begin a real relationship.**  
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